


Loops

by airdeari



Series: self-indulgent aoilight within [12]
Category: Zero Escape (Video Games)
Genre: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Thoughts of Self-harm, Thoughts of Suicide, those dang morphogenetic fields
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10059809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airdeari/pseuds/airdeari
Summary: "dem boys are at it again" - @psicaramel





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> haha ok read the tags these boys are in for a bad time because you know what!!! i had a bad day.
> 
> **UPDATE:** hello naughty children if you're seeing this for the second time with suddenly chapters it's because I am restructuring the story.
> 
> Chapter 1 is stuff you've already read. The lead-in. Take a peek and see where it cuts off just to refresh your memory.  
> Chapter 2 is _also_ stuff you've already read. Go ahead and skip that one.  
>  Chapter 3 is where I got a _terrible idea_ and thought to myself, oh my goodness, I have to rewrite the story this way. So I did! Read that for a little more pain and a little more payoff.

Light had made a new habit of brushing his hand over the light switch as he entered his bedroom after dusk, since Aoi was slower to pick up the habit of announcing his presence for Light’s convenience. Letting out a sigh to relax his shoulders, he followed the wall to his closet doors, unbuttoning his shirt with his other hand due to yet another habit. At the ends of a day, Light tended to perform most actions one-handed, whether or not he had shed the weight hanging from his left shoulder.

He had an awkward shape for his preferred dress: buttoned shirts tended to be made of woven fabrics, which had no stretch, so his long, narrow torso swam in a shirt cut for someone about three-to-five inches wider around than him. That made it easier for him to wriggle and slide out of his shirts after loosing the first two buttons, rather than run all the way down the buttons. He dropped them into the laundry basket that way as well, and threaded a hanger into and out of the shoulders as they were when they came out of the dryer, and then slid back into them again.

The rush of fabric against his ears momentarily deafened him to softer sounds. He let the silence linger to readjust his lower threshold for noises, scratching absently at the base of the implant in his left arm that connected him to his prosthetic. An itch to play the harp, perhaps after a short repose with a book, made him hesitate in pressing the switch to detach his arm, and then he heard something.

It was harder for him to describe in concrete terms what he heard after years of associating every sound with a real-world phenomenon and a location. What he understood was _person in room_. Only after another second of retracing his thoughts could he determine that what he had heard was the sound of breathing, unobstructed by and reverberating off of the walls.

Though he had not heard the sound well enough to determine its exact position, it came from the general direction of his bed, so it was likely Aoi, or possibly Clover, asleep. That would explain the lack of response when he entered the room and began undressing, as well as the lack of lighting. In case the sleeper awoke, he found himself a soft T-shirt, perfect for lounging and easy access to his arm, should he later lose himself in his reading and lose his present desire to practice music.

As he came closer to the bed, he tuned into the sound of breathing, hoping to determine on which side of the bed his guest had made their home. Instead, he paused. He had carved out a special place in his memory for the sounds of his sister, and as of late, he had become quite familiar with how Aoi breathed while asleep. This breathing had the depth and timbre of Aoi, but it did not have the heaviness or the slow rhythm. It barely had a rhythm at all.

“Hiding in plain sight?” Light asked softly.

That was definitely Aoi’s sigh.

“If you wanted to be left alone, you could have just said so,” Light said, taking a tentative step back from the bed and already thinking of the harp to which he would retreat as soon as Aoi gave the word.

Aoi did not give that word, or any other words.

“I’m lacking visual and aural cues, dear.”

He sighed again. His clothing rustled with his small movement. The young man who ordinarily could not keep from making some kind of snarky reply did not say a word even when prompted.

Light took a step towards the bed before he had guided his own impulse into moving forward instead of backward. With this awkward gait, he reached the foot of the bed, brushing against it with his palm to ascertain his sense of place. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

His hand traced up nearly the full length of the bed without finding Aoi’s legs. He jumped when he felt a palm on his shin.

“Lookin’ the wrong way, dumbass,” Aoi mumbled in a weak voice.

Light dropped himself to the ground. He had not heard the mattress springs or the bedsheets when Aoi moved earlier. Aoi was not on the bed; he was on the floor, sandwiched between the bedframe and the wall in what Light’s hands found to be a tightly curled ball. He brought his folded legs away from Light’s touch and closer to his chest.

“D’you ever just,” Aoi said, his voice breaking between a whisper and a high, thin sound, “just get yourself stuck in a morphogenetic murder reel of all the ways you’ve ever died?”

Though he had backed off when Aoi recoiled from his touch, Light grasped Aoi’s hands before he had finished speaking. “Ground yourself,” he urged. “Five things you see, four things you—”

“Stop, stop, I’m _fine_ ,” Aoi growled. “I ain’t stuck. I—I’m stuck, but I’m sticking myself there. I’m fine. I just…” He sighed again, such a heavy, sad sound. “Do you ever do this, too?”

Light frowned. “Purposely recall my own deaths across multiple timelines, you mean?” he asked.

“Yeah. Like it’s… satisfying, kinda. Just…”

_“We need to go find Jumpy and the others,” Akane urged. “We have to tell them what we found.”_

_“Very well,” said Gentarou fucking Hongou, shambling mass of subhuman slime. “You two can search for Junpei, Lotus, and Seven. I will return to the central staircase to retrieve Clover, and we will join you.”_

_Like hell._

_As soon as he gleefully took off, I shot a nervous look to Akane to tell her where I was going. I didn’t wait for a response. Her eyes were blank and glazed. Her fever had been acting up all throughout our nauseating charade through the captain’s quarters where literally everyone knew exactly how to solve the damn puzzle but nobody wanted to reveal it._

_“Let’s just fucking kill him right now,” I had whispered to Akane when he snuck away to murder Musashidou._

_I should’ve. The feeling in the pit of my stomach told me this timeline wasn’t going to work out our way._

_I kept my steps light as I followed him down the stairs from a distance, peering over the side of the banister to watch his pace. His deep voice echoed up from the base of the stairs as he said, “Clover, good, please come with me. We’ve finished with our door.”_

_“Oh,” she said in a dead, defeated voice._

_God, I wanted to tell her everything. He was okay. He was safe. I put him somewhere safe, where Hongou couldn’t hurt him._

_He gestured back up the stairs and let her pull ahead of him, holding his other hand behind his back. Like fucking hell._

_I almost didn’t make it there in time. He was so quick and thoughtless to raise the gleaming pocketknife over his head, the knife that Kubota had pointed at Clover once before. She was stunned when I appeared from around the corner and raced past her, screaming, “No, you fucking don’t!”_

_He looked scared for a tantalizing moment before I got a chest full of knife._

_It feels like fire in the best possible way. My body writhes with the pain and it doesn’t even feel like it’s mine anymore. Everything’s over, finally over. I’m sorry, Clover, Akane, everybody. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to end, but God, I just want it to end._

“You’re suicidal.”

The words came out of Light’s mouth before he fully returned to his own body after the strongest resonant event he had ever felt with Aoi. Although the flashback had cut off before Light had to see Clover inevitably felled in the same way, he was already shaking.

“No, I’m not,” Aoi groaned, shoving Light’s hands away. “I mean, maybe, but I don’t—I ain’t gonna kill myself, I ain’t gonna do anything. I just… wanna fucking die. I dunno.”

His voice died down to something very quiet again. It was a terrifying sound.

“So you’re reliving death,” Light uttered.

“Yeah. On purpose, kind of. I think.”

Light could balance on the balls of his feet no longer. He slid out of his crouch to take a seat on the floor in front of Aoi and tried to control his breathing.

“Fuck, I’m sending it to you, ain’t I?” Aoi realized.

“I believe I saw something from the Nonary Game,” Light said. “The second one.”

“Shit. Sorry.” His voice was muffled by his knees. “Shit, your sister was…”

“I didn’t see that part.”

“Me either.” His voice came from deeper within his huddle. “Sorry. You should just go. Sorry.”

Light swallowed through the lump in his throat and shook his head. “I’m not going to leave you alone like this.”

“Light, for fuck’s sake, I ain’t gonna fucking kill myself. I swear to God. I’m fine.”

“Are you going to hurt yourself?”

Aoi was silent for too long after that question.

“Have you hurt yourself before?” Light whispered.

“No,” Aoi snapped, “and I never tried to kill myself, I’m _fine_ , I just wanna fucking die and I’ll be over it in an hour or something, so just leave me the fuck alone before I—”

_—heard a wet squish and a crunch and a choking sound behind me._

_The manacles kept me chained to the chair, but I had enough room to turn around to see red, deep red, and pink. The first thought that gripped my stomach was that something had happened to her, but no, of course, she was the one who did this, because someone had killed the one she loved the most. Akane knew this was going to happen, and she still let out a shriek when it did._

_“Clover!” I screamed, rattling the binds on my wrists and ankles. “What the fuck?! What the fuck are you doing?!”_

_She stepped in front of me so I could see her empty eyes when I died. The axe, coated in Seven’s blood, wobbled as she raised the heavy blade over her head._

_“For my brother,” she whispered._

_I winced and closed my eyes when the axe came down, but I didn’t feel it. I just felt warmth. This wasn’t Clover’s body falling against me. This was—_

_“Akane,” I whimpered._

_The rest was blurred by tears. I tried to move my arms to hold her as she sank against me, oozing something warm and wet against my shoulder._

_Her sacrifice made Clover hesitate before giving me the final blow. I knew I was going to die, so I said the only thing I could say to die without regrets._

_“The truth-had-gone note,” I croaked. “It’s right and left. For the buttons on your bracelet. That’s the code, in the chapel. Right, left, right, left, ri—”_

_I spoke even as I watched the axe rise and fall again. For a terrific instant, I could feel the overpowering shock of sensation when the blade drove through my skull and cleaved my brain in two._

“When?!” Light demanded, his face hot. “When did she—?!”

“ _Fuck_ , you weren’t supposed to see that!” Aoi moaned. “Fuck! _Fuck!_ ”

Light grabbed Aoi’s bare shoulders, which shook even more violently than his hands. “How did this happen?!”

“It _didn’t_ happen. Forget it,” Aoi pleaded, wrestling pitifully against Light’s tightening grip. “Forget it, forget it, forget it, forget it—”

“What happened to her?! _Aoi!_ ”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original ending to this story. Featuring 1 panic attack.
> 
> If you would like to read the new ending, or you would like to read the end featuring 2 panic attacks, continue on to chapter 3!

Aoi gasped when Light shook him, and then he squeaked, “Stop.”

The gasping did not cease. He was hyperventilating, and under Light’s hands, his shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. He was shirtless, Light realized as he drew his hands back, and sweat was dripping down his back.

“Oh my God, I’m gonna die,” he mumbled to himself, then, after a groan, “I’m not. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. Fuck. I’m _fine_.”

“Slow your breathing,” Light instructed him. “Breathe out as much as you can, then inhale slowly.”

Whether the words were not getting through to Aoi or he could not follow the directions, his breathing did not change from its shallow, rapid pace.

“Do you need medicine?” Light demanded.

“N-no, no, I’m fine. I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

“Aoi, please, it isn’t a sign of weakness to need—”

“It’s not bad enough. It’s fine. This is—normal.” He coughed over his racing breaths. “I’m fine. I’m thinking straight. I’m fine. It’s just a panic attack. I’m fine.”

“You’re not thinking straight,” Light protested. “You’ve been mentally torturing yourself.”

“It’s—it’s not gonna work for another fucking hour anyway.”

His voice sounded on the brink of tears.

“Is physical contact alright?” Light asked, pulling his feet underneath him.

“Don’t tell Clover,” he breathed.

Light swallowed. The instant that he experienced through Aoi’s eyes had terrified him, made him want to hold her against his chest and never let go, to take the axe from her hands and slay her fears in her stead, keeping the blood from her small hands, hands that had once been so small he could fill them with his index finger. With the sound of her name, those emotions threatened to overtake him again.

“Don’t tell Clover, don’t tell—Clover—don’t tell—Clo—ver, don’t te—tell—Clo—”

Aoi was sucking in air faster than he could get it out again. Light immediately gave the false promise, “I won’t,” again and again, without processing whether or not he was willing to keep those words. He would say anything that had a chance of putting Aoi back together.

“I fucked it up,” he gasped, and there was a bang against the wall where he threw a wild fist. “I fucked it all up. Why’d I hafta—fucking—fucking—”

He punctuated each swear with another pound against the wall. Light could not wait for him to give his consent for physical contact. He was glad he had kept his left arm on after all.

Aoi was curled up so tightly that it was hard to wedge a hand between his calves and his thighs. When Light managed to make it through, he wrapped his other arm across Aoi’s back, gripping his opposite shoulder, and lifted. He was such a small, slight thing in Light’s arms. Light raised him up, then lowered him gently until he felt the resistance from the mattress.

“Lie back,” Light exhaled, rolling Aoi’s head to the pillow. “May I have your hand for a moment?”

Aoi placed his sweating, quivering hand in Light’s.

“Squeeze my hand. Use your whole arm.”

His breathing got heavier as he clenched Light’s fake hand without restraint.

“Now relax.”

Bit by bit, Aoi released the pressure. Light guided his arm to rest by his side.

“Other hand, now.”

By the time that they had repeated the process and both of Aoi’s arms were limp, his breathing had also slowed to something normal. His fingers stayed tight around Light’s hand, a request to stay linked.

“Breathe out all of the air in your lungs,” Light murmured, “then inhale slowly.”

He listened for the thin sound in Aoi’s breath that came from the lungs being compressed to their smallest capacity, one that lingered when Aoi drew in a slow breath.

“Hold it,” Light said.

“I know,” Aoi said quickly. A few beats later, he exhaled, slowly and completely. Light listened to him breathe for a short while, counting out the seconds between sounds.

_“What’s happened?” I asked. “Where are the others?”_

_I could barely make it out of my wooden prison—an austere coffin, I presumed—with her shaking arms locked around me. I ran my fingers through the tangled waves in her hair, scissoring through matted, sticky sections at the ends. Through the veil of smoke that told me we were in the candlelit chapel, I smelled iron. No, iron did not have a scent; the scent we associate with coins and blood is actually caused by a chemical reaction between the oils on our skin and the metal._

_With a sick feeling rising in my stomach, I realized blood was a possibility._

_“They’re all,” she sobbed, “they’re… they’re…”_

_When I held her tight, I felt rigid shapes against my stomach from something in her pockets. If they were bracelets, then the puzzle pieces made a clear, gruesome image._

_“You’re going to be alright, Clover,” I whispered. “We’re going to escape together. It’s all over.”_

_I urged her to move quickly, because I thought the assailant was still about. It never crossed my mind that the darling girl splattered in blood could have been the assailant all along._

“I woulda done the same fuckin’ thing.”

Light’s eyes watered when he blinked. He had been holding them open for the duration of his flashback.

“That’s what kills me, she doesn’ get it,” Aoi uttered. His voice was too hoarse to rise above a whisper. “If I thought someone—if Akane was—I’d fuckin’ kill anyone.”

“She thought I was dead,” Light whispered. “Killed.”

“She thought it was me an’ Seven.” Aoi shivered. “Goddamn digital roots.”

She was so small.

“I know it’s—it sucks when your little sister hides big shit like that from you, I fucking know, but just—you know why she was hiding it, Light, she was—she didn’t—she didn’t want you to—”

Aoi’s voice cracked when he tried to bring it out of a whisper.

“Fuck. Fine. We’re here now.” He let his voice break and waver without apology. “This is where we’re fuckin’ at. Panic attack, stage two. _Fine_.”

When he drew in a shaking gasp, his grip on Light’s hand grew tighter, perhaps involuntarily.

“Wouldn’ even tell you ’bout it when she had nightmares,” he said through the tears he did not want to be shedding. “She’s so… she’s so _ashamed_ , Light, she just…”

“Breathe, Aoi,” Light whispered, though he could barely breathe himself.

“I don’t wanna.”

Aoi’s hands clamored up Light’s arm, dragging him closer. He knocked headfirst into Light’s chest, locked his arms around him, and went limp. Light managed to shift the stiff boy into a more comfortable configuration against his body, until there was the weight of a head rolling against his shoulder and hot breaths turning cool on his neck.

“Breathe with me, dear.”

Their chests rose and sank, slowly, and in unison.

“God,” Aoi sighed when it came time to exhale. “I always forget…”

He inhaled for a few seconds, and held his breath for a few seconds after that. Light did the same.

“…that this actually fucking works,” he finished. He got out the last of the air in his lungs with a dry, voiceless laugh from his chest. “I always think it’s like… some bullshit to calm you down, but it’s… it’s straight-up physiological.”

“That surprises me,” Light said, “coming from someone who hates thinking about his feelings as much as you do.”

Aoi gave another quiet laugh. “Look who’s talkin’.”

“I don’t mind _thinking_ about my feelings,” Light replied, “I simply dislike _talking_ about them.”

For a while after that, there was only the sound of breathing. Aoi’s arms sank first, then his head, then he was giving a groan into Light’s ribs. “Lemme lie down. Got my fuckin’ wish,” he mumbled. “I’m dead. Holy shit. I’m over. I’m canceled.”

As he came up with words, Light lowered his head back to the pillow with a gentle smile.

“I ain’t movin’ from this goddamn bed for… forever. I’m so…”

“Drained?” Light suggested.

“That’s it. Yeah.”

“I do like _canceled_. That’s a delightful word for it.”

A shaky fingertip feathered against Light’s wrist, and then Aoi’s cautious hand slipped over the back of Light’s. His fingers curled around to Light’s palm, With a slow, gentle touch, Light gave Aoi’s hand a squeeze.

“You gonna tell Clover?” Aoi mumbled.

Light swallowed. “I… I don’t see any benefit in confronting her.”

“I’ll tell her. I fucked it up.”

He squeezed Aoi’s hand again. “You did no such thing.”

“M’gonna tell her. She should know she can talk to you about everything now, whatever.”

On the one hand, Light wanted to let his sister have her privacy, despite the link between their minds. On the other hand, he was grateful to Aoi for letting this slip.

“Are you going to want dinner tonight or has this taken your appetite?” Light asked.

“Shit, I was s’posed to make dinner…”

“The least of my concerns, dear. Are you hungry?”

Aoi sighed. “Not right now. Maybe later.”

“We can have dinner later. We could order something delivered.”

“Ugh, I’m gonna want somethin’ shitty like pizza, ain’t I.”

Light traced a finger up Aoi’s arm, over his shoulder, past his neck, up his jaw, his cheek, until he was pushing back Aoi’s hair from his forehead, where he laid a kiss. “A wonderful plan.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new ending to the story. Pretend Light has, if you will, SHIFTed back to the moment where he demands answers for what he saw in Aoi's flashback of Clover holding the axe. Let's proceed to a different ending!
> 
> I will warn you, this one is... worse. Which is why I had to share it with you. :^)

All at once—or maybe it had been happening slowly all along, and he only now noticed when it pressed against his sides—everything closed in around him.

_With every breath, the air grew staler. With an awkward twist of my prosthetic arm that I doubt could be achieved by one of flesh and bone, I managed to pull my left palm up to feel the wooden surfaces around me. I stretched out my toes and felt another wall at my feet. I wriggled up and hit my head at another wall._

_It takes a good while for even a small pocket of air to become deoxygenated by the efforts of one breathing human. Although we take in a great volume of gas when we inhale, very little of it is actually converted into carbon dioxide in that brief exchange. Despite the closeness of the space, science told me I was fine._

_Trauma, of course, insisted otherwise._

_The air tasted disgusting, musty with dust and thick with the smell of my own breath. I refused to breathe, not even to call for help. All I could manage was to pound against the walls surrounding me with a titanium fist. My ears were ringing in what I knew was silence but was starting to sound like the hydraulic scream of the Jaws of Life. For hours I had felt the ship’s creaks of metal as if they pressed against my body. My lungs felt like fire, but they did not burn as hot as the left arm I had lost so many years ago, the one I later found out spent one and a half hours sucked up into the wheel well of the car that had run through the windshield of my father’s sedan, while I lay among the shattered glass, pinned between a crushed seat and the underbelly of a smoking car._

_A deep, resounding thunk rattled my small world. My shoulders shot up to my sensitive ears. I heard something like splintering wood._

_I heard something that sounded like the gasp of my little sister’s sobs._

_I heard my own ribs snapping as a blade of cold fire ripped through my wooden prison and sank into my chest._

He knew what had happened to Clover.

“Light? Light, shit, no—Light, hey… no, no, no, fuck, _fuck_ —”

Light’s fingers dug into his chest where he still felt the blow of what he now knew was an axe. That hazy scene had drifted through his nightmares before, without context. It was one of the few memories he would unilaterally shove down any time it resurfaced to keep his mind from wandering to fill in the blanks. The sound of Clover’s fearful tears tortured him into believing that whoever had attacked him had done or would do something to hurt her, too.

“Fuck, no, don’t do this, not now, fuck, Light, I can’t—I can’t—”

She was safe. Something had put her on a murderous rampage, but all Light could find himself caring about was that she was safe.

A clammy hand clamped around his wrist and yanked it away from his chest. “Light, c’mon, snap out of it,” Aoi begged, his voice nothing more than a desperate whisper. “Not now, c’mon. Not now. Not now. I’m—I can’t—I can’t do this now, Light, God—”

Light could hear and feel everything going on around him. He just had lost track of the fact that it was all real.

_It hurt more to inhale than to exhale, but both sent jolts of pain ricocheting through my body. Something warm was oozing down my chest as I doubled over next to a wall, panting and groaning with each labored breath. I had a hazy memory of bursting out of the box as soon as I smelled new air, less to run from whatever threatened to smash through me and more to run from whatever had contained me._

_Her warmth enveloped me, suffocated me like the box, but it did not matter. I would die for her._

_“Light, please, please, please, no, no, please, I’m—I—I—”_

_My throat was thick with what tasted like blood. “I’ll be alright,” I said hoarsely. “I’ve survived… worse than this.”_

_“It’s all my fault,” she sobbed. “It’s all my fault. It’s—”_

_“You’re alright.” I smiled, and it kept spreading wider. I felt giddy. “You’re… alright.”_

_“Don’t do this,” she pleaded. “You can’t—Light, don’t do this, please, not now, no—”_

_“I love you,” I whispered every time I breathed._

“I _told_ you to go away,” Aoi choked. “Fuck. This is—this is my fault. This is all my fault.”

“I love you.”

The words fell out of Light’s mouth solely as an echo of phantom memories he was recalling for the first time. His wrist slid through Aoi’s weakened grip until their hands loosely tangled together, and he repeated the words to Aoi.

“I love you.”

“N-no. _No_.”

A deep-seated self-hatred compelled Aoi to dwell in these painful memories. It was the same self-hatred that still doubted Light’s affections after all this time. It was something inescapably woven into his psyche, a dark cloud that he had lived under for so long that he no longer recognized it as shadow. Every kiss was a lie, every smile was a joke, every mistake was proof.

Through that darkness, Light said again, “I love you.”

Aoi said nothing. His hand trembled before it squeezed Light’s.

“Is physical contact alright?” Light asked.

“I’m—I’m fine.”

Light shuddered from the base of his spine to the tip, giving a little shake of his head that tousled his hair. “Please,” he whispered.

Aoi’s hand tensed up. “Shit,” he uttered. “Fuck, one—one second, just gimme—”

Light shook his head again, curling his left arm around his stomach.

_I felt my grip grow slack around her jacket. My first thought was that the battery pack in my arm was running low. But it was my right hand that was going limp._

_She let out a little yelp, and then she was so soft, warm, and close around me. I would die for her._

Against his neck, Light felt hot, damp skin, dripping with sweat. Fingers latched onto the back of his shirt and pulled. A stitch on his shoulder gave out with a snap. Aoi’s heavy scent filled Light’s body, rooting him here in this moment.

“Five—five things you… _fuck_ , why the fuck d’you even say that all the fuckin’ time? You can’t even—f-four—four things…”

“I love you,” Light whispered again.

“Breathing shit. That shit actually works, right? Science? It—it ain’t just some bullshit to…”

“Ex—exhale completely.”

He heard Aoi’s shuddering breath as he sighed out everything in his hot lungs, he heard the hum of the heater filling the room, he heard a car pass by on the street, and he heard his little sister, his perfect little sister, still just a child in his last memories before—

“No, c’mon, do it with me,” Aoi begged, shaking his head. “You—you’re here, right? You gotta stay here, Light, I’m gonna—”

He felt air slipping from his mouth in a steady stream, he felt the cool touch of breath against his shoulder where Aoi had laid his head, he felt perspiration under the hands he pressed to Aoi’s back, so sticky and wet and hot it felt like blood—

“I’m sorry,” Aoi gasped, and fingernails dug into Light’s back through the cotton of his shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

He smelled Aoi, but when he lifted his head, he thought he could smell the overwhelming aroma of the salt-loaded spices in the cheap ramen noodle packets that Clover would make whenever he was not around—

“I’m a fuckin’ mess,” Aoi whimpered. “You don’t deserve this shit, I’m fuckin’—”

He tasted salt on Aoi’s cheek when he kissed it.

“I love you.”

The door closed.

Aoi gave a start and a gasp at the sound. Light turned his head over his shoulder, furrowed his brow, and weakly asked, “Clover?”

From behind the door, they heard her squeak, “Sorry, I didn’t know! I thought—um, just, have fun be safe bye!”

The furrows deepened in Light’s brow. “What?” he exhaled.

Aoi groaned. “I’m half-naked in your arms. She thinks we’re fucking.”

“Clover,” Light called, ignoring the break in his voice when he raised it. “Come back. We’re both having panic attacks, that’s all.”

“Light, no, I can’t—”

The door clicked and creaked open. Her hand slid across the wall to find the light switch. Aoi recoiled from what Light assumed was a sudden flash.

“Are you guys okay?” she whispered.

Light was well-practiced in faking resolve for his sister’s sake. “We will be,” he replied. “Did you need something?”

She paused. “I thought I heard,” she said softly, “I felt… I thought you were calling me.”

The false resolve began to dwindle away.

“Be right back, okay?” she promised.

Her footsteps did not retreat into the hallway, but crossed through the bedroom and through the door to the bathroom. In only seconds her toes were pitter-pattering back. The mattress creaked as she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Okay, Aoi, here’s yours,” she said, “and Light…”

She touched the hem of his sleeve and trailed down his arm. He lifted his open hand at that signal. First he felt the smooth edges of her polished nails, then a plastic cylinder that rattled as it moved.

“I’m alright,” he said, shaking his head. “It was just in passing. Possibly just a resonant moment.”

“I’m fine,” Aoi muttered into Light’s collarbone.

“Aoi, that’s verifiably false.”

Aoi’s fingers dug into his shoulder. “You _too_ , fucker.”

“Yeah, Light, I can tell,” Clover chimed in. “I got your eye drops, too, by the way.”

Light blinked. Dry lids scraped over the surface of his eyes, which he had been holding open for untold amounts of time without noticing. Aoi called it a tell: any time Light opened his eyes, he was either surprised, angry, or having a panic attack of some kind. He made a small noise of discomfort and pressed a hand to the sudden sting in his eyes. He dropped the pill bottle to open his hand for the drops. It took a moment for Clover to hand it over, because she was too startled by the desperate gasp Aoi had drawn in when he heard Light in pain.

“Um, do you need water?” she asked. The bottle of drops hit Light’s open hand awkwardly and too forcefully, but he got it. “Light takes his dry, I forgot—”

“I’m fine.” Aoi curled closer to Light’s body to hide his emotional face. “I’m _fine_.”

“Clover, don’t linger here,” Light sighed. “You might not be a morphogenetic receiver, but you _are_ too empathetic for your own emotional wellbeing.”

The mattress sprang back as she rose with a huff. “I just boiled some water,” she said. “Want tea?”

Then the scent of a flavor packet had not been Light’s imagination. “I will not drink anything that has touched one of your disgusting noodles,” he retorted.

“I made it in the kettle and poured it in the cup, dummy! No noodle touching!”

“Light, you fucking eat ramen any time I don’t cook,” Aoi grumbled. “Who the fuck you think you’re kidding?”

“Yes, but I put in real vegetables and seasonings unlike a certain tasteless fool.”

“What _ever_.” Clover stomped to the door. “Come watch TV with me when you’re up to it.”

The air felt heavier than Light thought it would once she was gone. It pressed down on his body, made him want to sink to the floor and never move again.

“Are you gonna tell her you know now?” Aoi whispered.

Light did not sink to the floor, but he did settle his weight too heavily against Aoi.

“I want,” Aoi said, “I want her t’know she can come to you about it. She… she wouldn’t tell you, she was so ashamed, even when she had nightmares, she’d never…”

“Tonight isn’t a good time for this,” Light uttered. His heart was picking up its pace again. It rattled his lungs and made his voice waver.

“Hey, I… I’ll take mine if you take yours,” Aoi bargained. He shook his pill bottle.

They linked elbows and tossed the pills in the back of their throats as though they were taking shots.

“More reality TV probably,” Aoi muttered, finally unfolding the legs he had held curled for so long. “We’ll _need_ drugs to get through it, God.”

“Are you still overheating or have you cooled down?” Light asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna get dressed. Shut up.”

“No need.”

Light pressed down on Aoi’s shoulder to keep him from standing. With his other hand, he pulled the duvet off of the bed and bunched it around Aoi’s cool body in overlapping layers.

“Stop, Light, I can’t walk with all this shit,” Aoi said with a smile brightening his voice.

“Then I’ll carry you to the couch,” Light replied. “I’ll make you tea. I will administer the tea directly to your mouth so I can be sure you replenish all of the fluids you’ve lost.”

“I _wasn’t_ crying.”

“I meant to imply that you were perspiring, but that sounds like a confession if ever I’ve heard one.”

“F—fuck you, you stupid piece of—”

Light brought the squirming bundle of blankets into his arms and rose. When Aoi felt securely balanced against his chest, he pressed a kiss to the young man’s salty cheek.

“I love every part of you, Aoi,” he whispered. “I want you to know that. I want you to believe that.”

Aoi scoffed. “Gay,” he mumbled.

As Light carried him to the door, he let out a heavy sigh that wavered with vulnerable relief.


End file.
